Second Chances
by las2217
Summary: Set right after S11E8. What Sam said while they were hunting with Sully about being a lonely kid really touched a nerve for Dean. A night of drinking, a hasty wish, and a surprise visit give Dean what he wished for...with a twist.


**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately I still own nothing to do with Supernatural...damn.

 **Author's Note:** Okay, I promise everyone that I am working on getting the next chapter of "What If" out. An unexpected visit from an old friend delayed it originally, and overall it's just been a tough one for me to write because I feel like it's really important not to screw it up. The idea for this story popped into my head, and I figured I'd take a break and let my brain focus on something else for a few hours. I would say this is going to be just a short oneshot, but since we all know that I am utterly incapable of writing anything that could come anywhere close to being considered short I'm just going to say it's a oneshot. It's not great, but I hope you all enjoy it, even though I'm sure this kind of story has been done to death.

* * *

 _I was kind of a lonely kid, Dean...Kind of a lonely kid...I was a lonely kid..._

Those words wouldn't stop running through Dean's head. Of all the cases they'd ever worked, this last one was undoubtedly one of the top ten weirdest. Seriously, imaginary friends? What Sam had said really touched a nerve though.

Sam hadn't gotten the chance to ever really be a kid. A part of Dean had always known that. He and Dad had tried to protect Sammy for as long as they could, but that didn't mean he'd ever had the chance to have the childhood he deserved. At least Dean had had the first four years of his life to really and truly been a kid. Sam hadn't even had that much.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was concerned, which meant this probably wasn't the first time he'd tried to get Dean's attention.

"Sorry. What?" he glanced over at his little brother sitting in the passenger seat.

"I said that we really need to talk," Sam repeated. "About finding a way for me to meet with Lucifer."

"We've been over this, Sammy," Dean said harshly. "It's not happening. It's too dangerous and I'm not letting you do it."

"Dean, you can't baby me," Sam ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "This is our mess and we have to clean it up. If talking to Lucifer is the way to get rid of Amara, we have to consider it."

"We'll find another way," the tone of Dean's voice signaled that this conversation was over.

They stormed into the bunker, each lost in their own thoughts. Sam headed straight for his room without a word to Dean. Dean sighed and poured himself a drink. Downing it in one gulp, he poured another one.

Sam had no idea how close to home he'd hit when he said Dean couldn't baby him. It wasn't the first time he'd said something like that, but with Sam's words repeating over and over in his head, they hurt more than they should.

Draining his glass again, it took all of Dean's considerable will not to throw it across the room. Why had Sam never told him how lonely he'd felt? Hell, why hadn't he seen it for himself?

"Dammit, Sammy," Dean muttered as he poured another drink. "I wish I could give you the childhood you deserved."

Dean spent most of the next few hours getting as drunk as he could. At some point he stumbled out of the huge library and to his room, bringing a brand new whiskey bottle with him so he could keep drinking himself into a stupor. It took three times as long for him to make it to his room as it should've but he finally collapsed onto his bed and took yet another long drink straight from the bottle in his hand.

Less than half an hour later, he was as blindly drunk as he'd ever been and his eyes started to drift closed. For a second he thought he saw a shadow in the corner of his room, but couldn't will his eyes to focus enough to be sure. His hunter instincts dulled by all the whiskey, he allowed his eyes to close all the way. Two minutes. He'd rest his eyes for just two minutes. If it attacked before that, it was dangerous. If it didn't, it was a figment of his imagination. He just needed two minutes...

The shadow grinned as it listened to Dean's breath slow to the deep, steady rhythm of sleep.

"Your wish is my command," it laughed softly.

* * *

Dean woke with a groan. He was pretty sure he was both hungover and still drunk. He hadn't known that was possible before this particular moment, but apparently it was. To top it off, he was pretty sure there was some sort of siren going off somewhere in the bunker.

"Sam!" he slurred. "Go find out what that is!"

If anything, the siren only intensified. Sitting up slowly he had to take a minute before he was confident enough to try getting to his feet. He wasn't sure if he should puke, pass out, or figure out where that siren was coming from. Duty finally winning out, he dragged himself out of bed and stumbled towards the sound. Oddly enough, it seemed to be coming from Sam's room.

"Sam!" Dean pounded on his brother's door. "What the hell are you doing in there? What's that sound?"

When he again got no answer from his brother, his adrenaline spiked. There was no way Sam would sleep through something like this. And it was loud enough to hear all over the bunker, so if Sam was here he'd have come to investigate already. Which only left the less comforting options of considering that Sam was either gone or something had happened to him.

Without hesitating any more, Dean reared back and kicked the door in. His headache seemed to magically be gone. Adrenaline had a way of doing that. Thankfully, a quick scan of Sam's room didn't reveal his giant-sized little brother lying unconscious in a pool of blood like his mind had convinced him. A second look showed him something _very_ out of the ordinary, though. Lying in the middle of Sam's bed, tangled in sheets and clothes, and screaming for all it was worth, was a baby. Toddler, Dean's stunned mind amended as he stared wide-eyed at the small child. Probably about two years old.

How the hell had a toddler even gotten in here? It wasn't like the bunker was the easiest place to even find, let alone get into. A toddler on it's own would never have been able to find it's way in. He guessed it was possible that an adult might have, but why would an adult sneak in just to leave a baby?

Dean crept closer to the screaming child. It's face was bright red and it's tiny fists were clenched tight. Brown hair was plastered to the sides of the baby's sweaty face and Dean couldn't help thinking that shaggy hair looked familiar. Moving forward until he was standing right next to the bed, Dean found himself reaching down for the child. Just because he didn't know how it had gotten in here didn't mean that it was right to leave it screaming on the bed.

"Hey, tiger," he lifted the baby and quickly realized that he didn't even have a diaper on. Dean wrapped the baby in Sam's huge tee shirt instead. "How'd you get in here? Huh?"

He bounced the baby in his arms a little. Sobs quickly gave way to sniffles, and the baby looked up at him with watery blue-green-gold eyes. Looking into those eyes, and finally really taking in the toddler's face, Dean started violently. Of course, that scared the little boy, who started crying again. Dean felt bad about that, but he hadn't been able to help himself. The little face that had been staring up at him was one he never expected to see again. It was one he hadn't seen in thirty years.

"Sammy?" he asked cautiously.

The little boy calmed slightly at the sound of his name, but didn't show any signs of stopping his hysterical wails anytime soon. He didn't show any signs of actually recognizing Dean either, which made Dean assume that it wasn't thirty-two year old Sam trapped in a toddler body. His brother was both physically and mentally a two year old.

"Holy shit, Sammy," Dean snuggled his brother closer to his chest. "What did you get yourself into this time?"

He carried his now-toddler little brother to the kitchen. His brain was running on auto-pilot at this point and right now it was telling him that instead of just staring, he should be taking care of the baby. He had to be hungry.

Finding something for little Sammy to eat was a whole different story, though. As Dean dug through their fridge and cabinets, he realized that he had pretty much nothing baby-friendly to eat. He finally settled on scrambled eggs, although he had no idea how he was going to cook them without putting Sam down. Putting him down wasn't really an option, though. Sammy was still only swaddled up in a big tee shirt and even if he'd been wearing actual clothes, there were a lot of things a toddler could get into around here.

"You think you can behave if I put you down for a second?" Dean asked.

In answer to his question, Sam stuffed his fingers into Dean's mouth. It was unexpected and Dean didn't even have time to stop him. The giggle that Sammy let out at Dean's shocked face was totally worth it, though.

"I'm going to take that one as a no," Dean removed the tiny fingers. He looked around, considering. "This place isn't really kid-friendly, tiger."

An idea bloomed, and Dean was pretty sure that CPS would have something to say about it if they knew, but right now it was the only option available if he wanted to be able to feed his brother and keep him from killing himself or touching something he shouldn't. Dean re-adjusted the shirt on Sammy so that he was actually (sort of) wearing it and then trotted to Sam's room. Grabbing the belt draped over the desk chair, and then unbuckling his own, he wrapped one around Sam's tiny middle, connected the two belts, and then carried him back to the kitchen. Making sure that the length wouldn't allow his baby brother to reach anything he shouldn't, Dean apologetically attached the other end of the makeshift leash to the table leg. Sam was still free to crawl around a bit, but was effectively tethered away from anything dangerous. Sammy toddled the length of the belts and squawked indignantly as he jerked to a stop. He looked up at Dean with a glare that would've given adult Sam a run for his money.

"Sorry, kiddo," Dean apologized. "But I don't need you touching a cursed object and turning us both into goats or something."

Sammy continued to glare at him, until Dean handed him a pot and a wooden spoon. Dean's poor, aching head protested that idea as Sam happily started banging on the pot with the spoon, but Sam's big belly laugh made it entirely more than worth it. While Dean got breakfast together, he considered everything.

It was almost like his wish had come true. He'd wished that Sam could have the childhood he hadn't been able to have, and just a few hours later Sam was turned into a baby. The happiness that filled him really wasn't quite fair to Sam, but Dean couldn't help it. He knew he'd have to figure out what had done this and how, but for the moment couldn't he just enjoy the brief second chance they were given?

"Dean?" a voice called from the door of the bunker.

"In the kitchen, Cas," Dean called back. "What're you doing here?"

"Sam didn't tell you?" Cas asked nervously. "He called me last night. He asked if I would help him convince you of something, but neglected to tell me what we were meant to compel you to agree with."

"I know what it was, and it's not happening," Dean gritted his teeth. Damn it all, now he was really glad that Sam was suddenly a two year old. Cas would most likely think that meeting with Lucifer was the logical next step. With both Sam and Cas against him, it would be hard to convince them not to go ahead with this stupid plan.

"Perhaps we should speak with Sam about..." Cas walked into the kitchen and stopped as he took in the scene in front of him. "Dean? Why do you have a small child tethered to the leg of that table?"

"Well, that's a bit of an interesting story," Dean couldn't help a snicker at the absurdity of Cas's question. "I don't know how it happened, but that's Sam."

"But Sam is an adult, not a child," Cas cocked his head to the side.

"I know," Dean shrugged. "I woke up this morning and he was a toddler. I have no idea what did this to him, but my best guess would be that he touched something that was cursed while he was cataloguing this place. I thought he'd spent all night in his room, but he must've gotten up at some point."

Castiel knelt down in front of the boy, who crawled over and looked up at him curiously. Cas put a hand on the baby's head and focused. It was easy enough to determine that this was, in fact, Sam Winchester. He dug a little deeper, trying to find the source of whatever had changed him from an adult to a child, but was met with a blinding flash of white. He quickly jerked his hand away as Sam started to cry again.

With a speed that even he didn't believe, Dean whipped around. Sam's pained cries woke up some sort of primal instinct in him. He'd always been protective of his little brother, but this was a whole different level of protectiveness. The eggs were done enough, so Dean slipped the belt leash off of his brother and cradled him in his arms. He glared down at Cas with a fiery look in his eyes.

"What did you do to him?" he demanded.

"I was attempting to determine what spell could have turned Sam into an infant," Cas explained, standing back up. "Whatever did this to him left a powerful protection around its spell. I couldn't break the protection."

"So what does that mean?" Dean asked. "Is there even a witch strong enough to block an angel?"

"Only one that I know of," Cas looked at him knowingly.

"Rowena," Dean growled. "Damn that red-headed bitch. Is there anything you can do about this, Cas?"

"No," Cas said simply. "I don't know the particulars of what Rowena did to him, so I don't know how to reverse it. We would need to get her here, but Dean, I can't be completely sure that it _was_ Rowena."

"You just said that she's the only witch strong enough to do something like that," Dean had to struggle to keep his voice calm. Sam was just starting to settle down again and he didn't want to upset him even more.

"She is, but I don't know that it was a witch's spell that caused this," Cas explained. "There was something...different about this magic. Stronger. I'm not entirely sure that it's possible for something this strong to even be reversed."

"Sam might be stuck like this, then?" Dean dropped a kiss on top of Sammy's head.

"Only until he grows enough to regain his previous age," Cas stated, and if that wasn't the typical confused angel reaction to what was going on Dean didn't know what was.

"We should still call Crowley and get a location on Rowena," Dean said reluctantly. "We can't completely rule her out unless we question her. I need to pick some things up for Sam first, though. He needs clothes that actually fit, diapers, and I need baby gates to keep him from getting into places where he could get hurt. Toys, too. Can you watch him while I run out?"

"Is it necessary to stare at a child non-stop at this age?" Cas asked in confusion.

"No, Cas," Dean rubbed his eyes. It was like taking care of two children sometimes. "I don't mean watch him like don't take your eyes off of him. I meant stay here with him and keep him safe until I get back. A two year old can't stay by himself. He could get hurt."

"Oh, I see," Cas answered, clearly still confused. "Yes, I can stay with Sam until you return."

"Thank you," Dean handed Sam to him. "He hasn't eaten yet. Think you can handle that? All you have to do is put the plate in front of him. He can eat the eggs with his fingers. Once he's done, just let him crawl around the library I guess. That's probably the place he can get into the least amount of trouble."

Nervously, Dean left the bunker after about a thousand more instructions for Cas. He peeled out of the bunker's garage and towards the nearest store where he figured he'd be able to find everything he needed. Once he got to the baby section of the store, he was completely lost, though. There were so many clothes in so many sizes. He realized on the way here that he'd need a car seat for Sammy, but there were about seven thousand brands of those, too. Not to mention the eighty-five sizes of diapers. He was in way over his head and was considering buying one of everything when a saleslady walked over to him.

"Can I help you?" she asked kindly.

"That obvious?" Dean laughed nervously.

"You have the look of a first-time Dad," the middle-aged woman smiled. "How old is your little one?"

"Uh, two," Dean didn't bother to correct her. Telling the woman that Sam was actually his thirty-two year old brother who had been cursed and turned back into a two year old wasn't likely to go over well.

"What was it you were looking for?" the woman asked.

"Kind of everything," Dean admitted. He dug for the least ridiculous lie he could come up with. "His mom and I had a falling out before he was born. I kind of travel around a lot for work, so I didn't even know about him until today."

"Well at least you have the chance to get to know him now," the saleslady patted his arm. "I'm Linda, by the way."

"Dean," he replied. "So I guess I should start with clothes for Sammy. What size clothes does a two year old wear?"

Not quite two hours later Dean found himself with a loaded shopping cart and an order to bring Sam by sometime so Linda could meet the little boy he couldn't stop talking about. Paying for everything, Dean rushed back to the bunker. He'd hoped to only be gone for half an hour, at most. He hoped that Cas and Sam were both still okay.

As soon as he entered the bunker, he was met with the sound of Sam's inconsolable wails. Dean raced down the stairs, pulling his pistol from his waistband. The bunker was so heavily warded that it was unlikely any supernatural creature had gotten in, but Dean wasn't about to take any chances. He practically flew into the big library where he saw Cas holding a screaming Sam and looking desperate.

"Dean!" his eyes looked panicked. "I believe something might be wrong, but I don't know what."

"Let me have him," Dean shoved the gun back into his waistband and held out his arms.

Cas handed Sam to him quickly and then backed away. Dean had to laugh at that. The angel had faced leviathans in Purgatory with barely a flinch, but a baby had him completely and utterly confused.

"He's just over-tired," Dean quickly ascertained. He laughed. "Sam's always been a huge, cranky, pain in the ass when he's tired. I'll get him dressed in something that actually fits and put him down. Do you mind doing some legwork on finding Rowena? I'll call Crowley once Sam's settled, but there's no guarantee he's going to answer."

"I'll look around for any signs of the witch," Cas agreed. "If I find anything I'll call you."

"Thanks Cas," Dean said, but Cas was already leaving.

Sam started to calm as Dean got him into a diaper and some of the clothes that Linda had helped him pick out. His eyes kept drifting closed and his thumb was making its way slowly towards his mouth. He kept fighting his eyes back open to look up at Dean, though.

"It's okay, kiddo," Dean brushed hair off of his forehead. "I'm still here. Do you remember me at all? Probably not. I'm your big brother. I'm Dean."

"De," the toddler mumbled quietly.

The old nickname brought a lump to Dean's throat. De had been Sam's nickname for him back when he was first learning to talk. It had been his first word, actually. He'd never thought he'd hear it again, but here it was.

"Yeah, buddy. De's got you," he tucked the little boy under his chin and carried him back to the bedrooms.

He hesitated for a second in front of Sam's room. It only took a moment for Dean to discard the idea of letting Sam sleep in there, and carried him to his room instead. There were things that Sam could hurt himself on in Dean's room, but at least he knew what was in there and where it was. It'd be easy enough to move the dangerous stuff. In Sam's room, he wouldn't be entirely sure that he'd gotten everything and would probably have a heart attack at the thought of leaving his baby brother alone in there.

Dean carefully laid Sammy down in the middle of his bed and tucked pillows around him. Once he was convinced that Sam wouldn't roll out of bed by accident or smother in the pillows, Dean moved to pick up any weapons that were in toddler reach. Scouring the room, he looked around for someplace high enough that Sam wouldn't be able to reach. All he had was his nightstand and desk, though. Neither of which were high enough to keep curious toddler fingers off of, so he carried everything out to the library with the intention of storing it on a high shelf.

It only took a minute or two, but when he made his way back to his room to check on Sammy, the baby was crying again. Dean rushed in and pulled Sammy into his lap. He tried to remember if Sam had been this clingy back when he was actually two years old. His memory was a little hazy, considering he'd only been six at the time, but he thought the answer was yes. Sam had been a very affectionate, cuddly child. Well, he had been until Dad caught on anyway, Dean remembered angrily. Dad had insisted that Dean was too old to be that cuddly with his little brother.

"Don't you worry, baby boy," Dean curled around Sam, laying both of them back down on the bed. "I'll stay here with you. I could use a nap myself, you know?"

Sam's thumb found his mouth again and his other hand clutched at Dean's shirt. Dean wrapped both of his arms around his baby brother and breathed in the baby scent of him. Another pang of guilt hit him as he realized that he should be calling Crowley right now instead of taking a nap with Sammy. But the toddler needed him right now. Right or wrong, Dean had wished that Sam could have the childhood he deserved and he wasn't going to screw it up now that he had that chance.

"I'm gonna take care of you, Sammy," Dean promised. "I know I can't keep you like this, but I swear I'm going to make things up to you for as long as you are."

* * *

"What do you mean 'it couldn't have been Rowena'?" Dean shouted into the phone.

"Calm down," Crowley replied in a frustratingly calm voice. "Yelling at me isn't going to turn Baby Moose back into his oversized self. Take my word for it, Rowena didn't have any part in this."

"Your word?" Dean laughed. "Right, because I have every reason to trust your word."

"Believe me, don't believe me," Crowley said. "The fact remains that it wasn't Rowena."

"Damn it all," Dean yelled.

"De?" a shaky voice asked from behind him.

Dean turned to meet big hazel eyes that were quickly filling with tears. If there was one thing he'd learned in the past week, it was that Sam didn't like it when he yelled. It scared the toddler, so Dean had been trying to curb it, but he'd thought his baby brother was still napping.

"Hey, buddy," he scooped his little brother up. "I'm sorry. Don't cry, huh? I thought you were still sleeping."

"No seep," Sam babbled in baby talk. "Wake."

"I see that, tiger," Dean tickled under Sammy's chin, knowing that would make him laugh. "You're gonna be cranky as hell by bedtime, aren't you?"

"Hungry," Sam giggled, pushing Dean's hand away.

"Okay," he knew there was no way he'd get Sam back to sleep anyway. "Do you want grilled cheese or peanut butter and bananas?"

"Candy," Sam answered.

"Candy is not a lunch food," Dean shifted the toddler to his hip as he walked to the kitchen.

"Candy," Sam repeated.

"How about candy _after_ lunch?" Dean suggested.

Sam looked at him in confusion. He clearly had something he wanted to say, but wasn't sure how to say it.

"Did Cas let you have candy for lunch the other day?" Dean asked. He'd needed to go food shopping a few days ago and instead of dragging a cranky toddler with him he'd asked Cas to babysit again. It was looking like that might've been a mistake.

"No," Sam shook his head. "No Cas. Babe!"

"Babe?" Dean had no idea what Sammy was talking about. Sam knew that he tended to call the Impala Baby, but it wasn't likely that Sam was talking about the car. "What do you mean, honey?"

"Babe. Candy," Sam looked earnestly at him. His eyes darted to the corner and he broke out into his sunny, dimpled grin and pointed. "Babe!"

Dean swung around, hand going to the small of his back for his pistol. He had it in his hand and pointed towards the corner before he even had time to identify what was standing there. Once he had, he slowly lowered the gun and tried not to look shocked. Guns weren't going to do him any good against this, anyway.

"I should've guessed," he growled. "Of course, we thought you were dead, so..."

"What can I say? It's harder to kill an archangel than it seems," Gabriel smirked from the corner.

"Did you do this to my brother?" Dean asked.

"Hey, I was just trying to help," Gabe sauntered across the room with a piece of candy in his hand.

"You give that to him and I swear I'm getting my angel blade," Dean warned.

"Such a mama bear," Gabriel teased, putting the candy back in his pocket before Sam could see it. "You wished for your brother to be a kid again. I was just obliging."

"I didn't mean it literally, you jackass!" Dean yelled.

"De..." Sam wailed, tears immediately starting.

"Hey, it's okay, baby boy," Dean rubbed Sam's back. "I'm sorry. I keep forgetting. No more yelling. I promise."

"So you're telling me that you didn't enjoy this past week?" Gabriel asked, arching an eyebrow and going right back to their conversation.

"Well...I mean...okay, parts of it have been nice," Dean admitted. "It's not right, though. I may have wanted Sam to have a second chance at a childhood, but that doesn't mean he would've wanted it."

"He doesn't seem to mind," Gabe motioned towards the child on Dean's hip.

"He's _two_ ," he had to clench his teeth to keep from yelling. He'd promised, after all. "All Sammy cares about is candy and toys. I might rank third in that lineup, but it might be a battle between me and juice."

"I'd prefer juice over you," Gabe put in.

"Juice?" Sam perked up. "De? Juice?"

"Alright, buddy," Dean popped Sam into his high chair.

"What are you doing here Gabriel?" he asked as he reached into the fridge for Sam's sippy cup.

"I wanted to see how you were enjoying your wish for your brother to be a child again," Gabe straddled a chair and slipped Sam a piece of chocolate while Dean's back was turned.

"It's awesome. Turn him back," Dean ordered, turning back from the fridge and handing Sam his cup. As Sam reached for it with chocolate covered fingers he glared at the archangel. "I said no candy."

"That wasn't candy. It was chocolate," Gabe smirked.

"I swear to god, Gabriel," if Dean clenched his teeth any harder they were all going to break right out of his head. "Change my brother back. Now."

"I don't think I'll do that," Gabriel stayed lounged in his chair, completely unconcerned that the best hunter on the planet wanted his head.

"Why did you come here then?" Dean asked, confused

"To see if you'd figured it out yet."

"Figured what out?" Dean was getting more lost by the minute.

"You'll find out eventually," Gabe winked. "Until then, I'll be keeping an eye out. Sam gets to go back to his Gigantor self when you learn what you need to."

With a flutter of wings, the archangel was gone and Dean was left staring blankly at the chair he'd disappeared from. He figured he should call Cas, but right now his head was pounding. Dealing with angels always gave him a headache. Except for Cas. Well, then again, sometimes Cas gave him a headache too. The all encompassing statement that angels always gave him a headache could stand.

"No milk!" to make things even better, Sam flung his cup, hitting Dean in the ear. "Juice! No milk!"

He turned to see his little brother looking thunderously at him. He bent down to pick up the cup and realized that there was, in fact, milk in it instead of juice.

"Oh, god forbid," he teased Sammy. "It's just the end of the world that I gave you the milk cup instead of the juice one, isn't it?"

"Juice," Sam repeated, pointing at the fridge.

"Yes, your majesty," Dean rolled his eyes and exchanged the cups. "So, you never told me. Grilled cheese or a peanut butter and banana sandwich? If you don't pick then I will."

"Nanas," Sam finally answered.

Dean was sometimes amazed at how fast he'd come to understand baby talk. It wasn't like it was rocket science, but any other time he'd been anywhere near a baby he hadn't been able to understand a single word of the babble. The first day or so with Sam as a baby had been a little tough, but he'd caught on remarkably fast after that.

He turned his mind to what Gabriel had said as he put the sandwich together for Sam. What was he meant to learn from all of this? Apparently all the years of what he called "witness protection" as a Trickster had left its mark since he still apparently liked to teach lessons. Dean turned to hand Sam the now-made sandwich and nearly dropped dead of a heart attack. Sam was standing in his high chair's seat and trying to climb over the back of it. The ridiculous contraption was wobbling and as Dean watched it started to tip.

His lightning fast hunter reflexes were all that saved Sam from a broken head. Dropping the sandwich he snatched the toddler quite literally from midair. Sam, of course, found the whole thing hilarious.

"Whee!" he laughed. "Again!"

"No, not again," Dean held Sammy tight against his chest and tried not to shake. "Definitely not again, Sammy. You just took about ten years off of my life with that stunt there. God, you're just as klutzy as a kid as you were as an adult."

"Ow, De," Sam squirmed.

"Sorry," Dean apologized, loosening his grip. "You okay little man?"

"Okay," Sam nodded. "Kiss?"

Dean happily obliged, kissing Sam on the tip of his nose. Over the years he'd forgotten how kissing Sam's nose used to make him giggle. He'd rediscovered it back at the beginning of the week and he'd been doing it as much as possible.

"Sammy kiss!" he announced, slobbering a wet kiss over Dean's nose.

"Thanks," Dean laughed. "Just what I needed. Sammy spit all over my nose."

"Down," Sam started to wiggle again.

He put his little brother on the floor and looked around for what he'd done with the sandwich while his brother was practicing for the circus. Amazingly enough, it had landed on the counter. Sam was stretching towards it, but his little arms were just a bit too short to reach.

"De!" Sam whined and pointed. "Sammich, De! Want sammich."

Laughing, he handed the sandwich down and trotted after his whirlwind of a baby brother as he ran back towards the library. He'd cleared a corner of the library, moved everything so that there was a big open space, and had barricaded it with baby gates so that it was basically an oversized playpen. They spent most of their time there because it was both the safest place in the entire bunker for Sam and the place where most of his toys were.

As much as he knew he should be thinking more about what Gabriel had said, Dean couldn't focus on anything but Sam. Even though he'd argued with the obnoxious archangel, he'd honestly never been happier than he had this week. It wasn't fair to Sam, but Dean loved having him back to being a baby. _Sam_ had a tired look in his eyes from too much knowledge and experience. _Sammy_ was carefree and his biggest problems were getting milk instead of juice and not being able to reach his sandwich. All in all, if it were up to Dean to choose, he'd keep Sammy like this forever.

 _It's not up to you to choose, though, is it?_ his brain supplied unhelpfully.

No, he had to admit. No, it wasn't his choice. He'd made the wish lightly, and it wasn't like he was the first person in the world to wish for a second chance at something. He just happened to have an archangel peeping Tom who found it hilarious to give him exactly what he'd asked for. Which still didn't make it fair to Sam. He wasn't the one who had wished to be a child again, after all.

"De sad?" suddenly Dean had a lapful of baby brother. The big hazel eyes were filling up with tears again.

"No, tiger," he lied. "I'm not sad. I was thinking. Looks like you're doing pretty good on that sandwich. Think you can finish it?"

Sammy nodded, uncertain eyes still looking up at Dean. He toddled over to his pile of stuffed animals and grabbed one. He made his way back and held it out to Dean.

"De hold Tigey," Sam said, holding out his favorite stuffed tiger.

After Dean had explained to Sam that this stuffed animal was a tiger, his little eyes had sparkled. Tiger was one of Dean's favorite nicknames for him and "Tigey" immediately became his favorite toy. It made Dean want to cry all over again to realize that his brother was trying to comfort him.

"Thanks, buddy," he took the stuffed tiger and put it in his lap.

Sam sat in front of him and proceeded to pretend to feed the rest of his sandwich to the tiger. It took twice as long and was twice as messy, but Dean didn't care. By the time the toddler had completely finished the sandwich, he was a sticky mess.

"How about a bath?" Dean suggested.

"No baff," Sam shook his head.

"Well you can't run around like a peanut butter monster," Dean teased. "Look at you! Covered in peanut butter and bananas!"

"No baff," Sammy repeated, backing away from his older brother.

Dean stood and started stalking after him, taking big exaggerated steps and putting an evil grin on his face. Sam screeched and ran as fast as his stubby legs would let him. He let his little brother run around like that for a few minutes and then abruptly changed direction and swung Sam up while the little boy let out a high pitched shriek.

"Let's go, peanut butter monster," he dug his fingers into Sam's ribs, a spot where even adult Sam was still ticklish, and got another ear-splitting scream for his trouble. That sound always went right through him when a small child at a diner or motel would make it. With Sam though, he loved hearing it because it meant that he was having fun.

He dumped Sam's toys into the tub and adjusted the water until it was the right temperature. Holding tight to the squirming toddler, he managed to get him into the tub, where he immediately settled into playing with his boat. Dean cleaned him quickly and then sat back to let Sammy play until the water got cold.

A sly look crossed Sam's face and Dean had just enough time to wonder how much trouble a two year old could come up with when a stream of water hit him square in the face. He sputtered and wiped his face to see Sam sitting in the tub facing him with a rubber duck in his hand. Apparently, said rubber duck could squirt water out of its mouth when squeezed. If Dean had known that little fact, the obnoxious yellow thing would never have made it into the bunker. The huge smile on Sammy's face pretty much made it worth it, though.

"Oh, so that's how it's gonna be?" Dean asked. He scooped up some water in his hands and dumped it over the baby's head.

The brothers spent the next few minutes having a water fight. By the end of it, Dean realized he was probably just as wet as Sam was. He didn't know how long they would've kept up their water fight, but he finally realized that Sammy was starting to shiver.

"Okay, truce!" Dean called. "Time to get out of the tub, baby boy. You're gonna turn into a raisin if you stay in there much longer."

Drying them both off, Dean tossed most of his soaked clothes into the corner of the bathroom and got Sam dressed. He carried Sam back to his room and dug around for clothes of his own while the toddler sat in the middle of the bed, blinking tiredly.

"Told ya, you should've taken that nap," Dean teased. "Tired now?"

"No," Sam proved how not tired he was by yawning.

Dean settled onto the bed and Sam immediately crawled over to curl up on his chest. Rubbing the toddler's back, Dean made up his mind. He wanted his little brother to have a second chance at the childhood he hadn't gotten. He wanted to be the big brother that Sam had needed the first time around. He wanted to protect his baby brother from everything out there in the world. But no matter what he wanted, it wasn't his right to decide Sam's life for him.

Sam's breathing was already deep and even, and Dean found himself following his brother down into sleep. As he drifted off his mind continued along the line it had been on. It wasn't his right to decide Sam's life for him. Not just in his current situation, but as an adult too. Out of everyone, Sam was the only one who had come up with any sort of plan. And Dean had shot that plan down without even bothering to listen. He just assumed that he knew best and pushed Sam to the back like he always had. If letting Sam decide his own life meant that he had to watch while he met with Lucifer, he would damn well suck it up and trust that Sam knew what he was doing.

Content that he had finally settled on a decision, albeit one that he wasn't crazy about, Dean let himself fall asleep. With Sammy sleeping on top of him, he wasn't worried about the baby falling off of the bed. He'd feel it the second the toddler started to move around and wake up long before he could go anywhere.

Except that wasn't quite what happened. Dean did, in fact, wake up to his brother moving around. No, he corrected himself as he struggled to breathe. He'd woken up to his brother growing rapidly to his normal size. He tried to push his once again enormous little brother off of him gently, but Sam woke with a jerk. He took a second to take in his surroundings and then scrambled as he realized that he was still lying mostly on top of Dean.

"What...where...when..." he stammered.

"Well, good news, bad news situation here," Dean laughed. "The good news is that Gabriel's still alive."

"The archangel?" Sam frowned, like he was trying to remember something. "Wait. He was here."

"Yeah. The bad news is also that Gabriel's still alive and just as tricky as ever," Dean continued. "What do you remember about this past week?"

Sam didn't answer right away. Thinking back, he realized that if he really focused, he could remember quite a lot about this week. He remembered how Dean had played with him, fed him, tucked him into bed and slept curled up around him, and a million other little things. He didn't know if he should say that, though. It was one thing for Dean to have done that with a baby. To have your thirty-two year old brother remember all of that could make things awkward.

"A lot then," Dean nodded. At Sam's shocked look he added, "I spent the past week taking care of you as a toddler. Actually, come to think of it, I've spent the past thirty some-odd years raising you. I can read you like a book, Sammy."

For once Sam didn't correct him. He picked at the comforter a little and suddenly realized that he wasn't wearing anything. He'd apparently exploded out of his clothes when he suddenly grew from a pint-sized two year old to a 6'4" man. His face turned red and Dean smirked, understanding what Sam must have just figured out.

"It's all good, Sam," Dean said. "This week has actually been...kind of nice for me. What you said back there on that last job with Sully, about being a lonely kid, it got to me. I felt like I'd failed you and I wound up wishing that you could go back to being a kid so that I could change things. Obviously I didn't think it could actually happen, but Gabe must've heard it and you know him. I really sort of liked having you as a little kid again, but it also made me realize something. I can't control you, Sammy. I have to loosen my grip and let you live your own life. So, if you think that finding a way to meet with Lucifer is our next step, I'll be behind you on it."

"I'm not mad at you, Dean," Sam told him. "I didn't realize what I said was going to have that kind of effect on you and I'm sorry for it. I'm kind of glad that this happened too. We haven't taken time to just be brothers in a while, you know."

"Yeah, I do," Dean leaned back against his headboard. "You better go get dressed Sasquatch. I have to call Cas and let him know it's safe to come back. I think you traumatized him."

"Hey, I didn't make the decision to have the awkward angel babysit a two year old," Sam laughed.

"It's not my fault you shrunk out of all your clothes!" Dean teased, standing when he realized his phone was still in the kitchen. "I couldn't exactly take you out of the bunker in nothing but an oversized tee shirt."

"Would've been interesting to see peoples faces," Sam considered.

"You're right about that, kiddo," Dean reached out and absently brushed hair out of Sam's eyes, pausing when he realized that his brother probably didn't appreciate that anymore. Or the nickname, for that matter.

Sam just smiled though. Having that connection with his brother back was worth some hovering on Dean's part. He knew it would be easier for Dean to have fallen into the habit than it would be for him to break it.

"Go call Cas and tell him the coast is clear, jerk," Sam finally said.

"Yeah, yeah you bossy bitch," Dean smiled back and pushed him towards the door.

* * *

 _ **Additional Note:**_ _So there it is. Not necessarily a great story, but I wanted to write something cute and see how Dean reacted to a baby Sam. I also firmly hold onto my dream that Gabriel is not dead. Maybe if enough of us refuse to believe it, the writers will catch on and bring him back. :D_


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